


Zeroes And Ghosts

by Clarisse (transnymphtaire)



Series: Advent Calendar 2016 [22]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Ghosts, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8963494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transnymphtaire/pseuds/Clarisse
Summary: You're born with a countdown on your wrist





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a product of the alcohol I had like three hours ago, Paranorman, and ice cream. Also the fact that Tom identified as Voldemort already as a teen.
> 
> Unbetaed.

When you’re born, there’s numbers inked into the skin of your wrist. Everyone’s numbers are different, and they’re constantly changing. They don’t stop until the countdown reaches zero, which is when you meet your soulmate.

Or at least that’s how it’s supposed to work.

A red wristband hides the row of zeroes from view. Harry hates them with his very being, as their significance is that of a meeting he can’t remember. The odd thing is that his parents can’t answer him either.

His countdown has always been at zero.

There’s books about it, but they’re all science fiction or horror stories, about people whose soulmate is a ghost or a vampire. There’s the rare stories where two soulmates met in the hospital at birth. None of them actually had a row of zeroes from the moment they were born; they only had it for as long as they can remember.

It’s not the same thing.

Harry hides his numbers, and he ignores that they’re not the only thing that separates him from the crowd. He ignores that his mother speaks to the dead, and he ignores that he has inherited the ability.

He ignores everything but the happiness of his dear ones, making himself into a person that others will need.

Or he tries to, until the day that he gets home and there’s a strange boy with red eyes sitting on his bed, without horns but a tail like a cartoon devil wrapped around the leg.

* * *

“Could you maybe… leave?” Harry asks, as he lets his backpack glide off his shoulder to land on the floor with a dull thump. All he really wants is to throw himself onto his bed and take a nap, but it’s hard when someone who looks too compact to be a ghost is sitting there.

“Rude,” the strange boy chastises him. “You didn’t even ask why I’m here.”

“Why are you here?” Harry sighs as he settles for the beanbag that stands in the corner. It’s nice to sink down in, but it can’t compare to lying face-down on his bed.

“Got bored. The afterlife is not all that it shape up to be.”

Harry blinks, and takes a long look at the strange boy. Still no sign of ghostliness.

“Are you actually dead?” he blurts out.

“Rude,” the strange boy drags the word out, making it sound melodic like half-singing. “Of course I am, you can only see dead people, you know.”

“...the tail?”

“I can warp reality. You really know nothing, huh?” the boy asks, with a laugh. Harry doesn’t see what’s so funny about the situation.

“Did you actually want anything, or?” Harry bites out, annoyed and tired. There’s a reason he usually ignores the dead, or direct them to his mother.

“Kinda wanted to see what you were up to,” the boy confesses. “Last time I saw you, you were just born and covered in bodily fluids. Not the greatest first impression. Your second impression was not that good either.”

Harry goes pale. His birth? He can’t help but glance to his own covered wrist, and then at the boy’s.

A row of zeroes stand out almost as if they’re glowing. It doesn’t take long for Harry to realise that they actually are, and his glance moves up to the boy’s cheeky smile.

“Took you long enough.”

* * *

An hour later, Harry has a lot more information than he knows what to do with.

The boy calls himself Voldemort, which is hilarious in a multiple of ways, and has been dead since the 20’s, which is give or take a hundred years. Harry doesn’t know if he should laugh or scream at the fact that his soulmate is a ghost that he would never have met if they lived. Maybe he would have had another  _ living _ soulmate if Voldemort weren’t a stubborn arse and decided to go all ghost.  _ He didn’t even know your soulmate could be a ghost! _

What more is that being dead is apparently rather boring as there’s not that many dead people that are interested in starting shit, so Voldemort has not matured at all and is an immature teenage boy with obscure humour that enjoys saying stuff that made sense in the 20’s, like asking Harry if they should haul someone’s ashes together. He doesn’t know if he hopes that’s an euphemism or not.

“Do I really have to put up with you?” Harry asks, and buries his head in his hands. He can feel a headache growing.

“It’s fate.” Voldemort once more drags it out like singing, right into his ear. Harry jumps - he didn’t notice that the other moved.

“Fuck!” he exclaims, and turn his head to meet Voldemort’s amused expression.

“Maybe later,” Voldemort quips. “You should tell me what you do for fun around here.”

Harry is seriously considering if he can punch a ghost. Maybe he shouldn’t have ignored the zeroes or the dead for as long as he has - it feels like he has missed important information that he ought to have. He would ask his mother, but he can only imagine her reaction, and while it would not be bad, he does not feel up for her bad puns. Not to mention that his father would want to use the ghost to pull pranks…

His family is rather strange - though in a good way - and Voldemort as a soulmate has just made it a lot more stranger. Harry really needs that nap right now. How else will he have the energy to deal with Voldemort for the rest of his life?

**Author's Note:**

> To haul someone's ashes is the greatest euphemism for sex that I know of.
> 
> I still need to know what ship people would like on the 25th btw. And some more Tomarrymort suggestions wouldn't hurt.


End file.
